


Home Thoughts From a Road

by jdjunkie



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-30
Updated: 2011-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:26:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdjunkie/pseuds/jdjunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freewheeling thoughts on a Sunday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Thoughts From a Road

Jack gets up just after 6 a.m. He could lie in but he doesn’t.

He chugs a glass of orange juice, grabs a water bottle and fetches his bike from the garage. He wheels it to the bottom of the driveway, casts one look back at the house he never sold when he was supposed to, smiles at the thought of what lies tucked up safe and snoring inside, and heads out on a twenty-mile ride through the foothills.

It’s the start of a beautifully warm Sunday. Wispy white clouds pepper the sky and a light breeze lifts his hair - it’s a little longer than regulation these days - as he changes gear to tackle the coming incline. He breathes hard, shifts his grip on the handlebars and rises from the seat, pushing his weight down on the pedals and setting a steady rhythm. It’s not long before the sweat begins to bead his forehead and roll down his face. He can feel it dripping from his chin. He reaches for the water bottle, takes a drink, breathes out hard.

The ride is testing but not exhausting. He’s past pushing his body to the limit these days. He did that for years in all sorts of ways, mental and physical. This is about keeping in reasonable shape; a healthy body (knees notwithstanding but soon to be dealt with) results in a healthy mind.

Exercise clears his head. It always has, right from hours spent playing street hockey with his buddies, through tough Air Force workouts to ultra-competitive boxing bouts with Teal’c. He can think. Reflect. Let this thoughts wander in a way they never do otherwise.

Time was when those thoughts concerned the safety of millions. Today, he thinks about the lumber he needs to fix the back fence, the burgers he needs for tonight’s barbecue and the beer for tomorrow’s poker game. Everyday, simple stuff that is, for him, kind of exciting in its own mundane way.

The terrain evens out. It’s not quite downhill all the way now, but it’s easier.

He raises a hand to acknowledge a fellow cyclist who he often sees on this route. A young, handsome, short-haired guy with a tight ass and leanly-muscled legs. He could be military. He always smiles and waves. Jack’s seen him checking him out more than once. He’s picked up the vibe. He’s pretty sure that, if he wanted it to, it could go somewhere.

He smiles.

The only place he wants to go is home.

He cruises through the last five miles, enjoying the wind on his face, the warmth of the rising sun on his back. There is a song going through his head. He can’t remember the title or who sings it. One of those interchangeable easy-listening singers who infest the damn radio these days ... Let me go home, I’ve had my run, Baby, I’m done, I’ve gotta go home ... Yeah. Home is where he wants to be these days. He pedals faster.

The house is bathed in sunshine when he pulls onto the driveway. And, god, but he loves the house he built. The house that is now a home for one reason, and one reason alone. He puts the cycle in the garage, glugs the rest of the water in the bottle and heads into the kitchen.

His heart starts beating faster. Faster than on the toughest climb.

Daniel is standing barefoot by the refrigerator, peering inside. He’s just got up. His hair is mussed, standing up in unruly spikes. He’s bare-chested and the boxer shorts he wears for sleeping are riding low on his hips. Not finding what he’s looking for, he turns, stretches and yawns. Jack watches as the line of hair leading down beneath the cotton shorts is revealed when Daniel’s stomach muscles tighten.

The man is so beautiful.

Daniel finally sees him leaning against the doorjamb and smiles, absently scratching his smooth chest. “Oh, hi. I was, um, we’re out of milk. And I forgot to defrost the bacon.”

Jack grins. This is what he hungers and thirsts for. This is home.

ends


End file.
